War Torn
by Gillian Taylor
Summary: War leaves its mark on a soul, in a mind, and deep in a heart. They were his companions in a war against Colonization, his family, but what can he do when he is torn? Skinner reflects on the events of the end of season 7 and beginning of season 8.


Title: War Torn  
Author: Gillian Taylor  
Email: usstrustno1@hotmail.com   
Rating: PG  
Category: V, A  
Spoilers: Requiem, Invocation   
Keywords: Skinner POV, Skinner Angst  
Summary: War leaves its mark on a soul,  
in a mind, and deep in a heart. They  
were his companions in a war against  
Colonization, his family, but what can  
he do when he is torn?  
  
Archive: Gossamer, Ephemeral. Anywhere  
else, sure, but please drop me a line so   
I can visit and get a cheap thrill out of   
having my story up somewhere where it can   
be appreciated.   
  
Disclaimer: Sadly, I can lay no claim to the   
characters from the X-Files. If I could, I   
would die a happy woman. Skinner, Mulder, Scully,  
and Doggett belong to Ten Thirteen Productions and   
I'm only borrowing them for my own perverse   
enjoyment.   
  
Author's notes: Thanks, as usual, go to my beta,   
Crysta.  
  
"War Torn"  
by Gillian Taylor  
  
The light filtered through the drawn blinds in long   
beams, etching patterns of shadows and light on my   
mahogany desk. Late afternoon was always my favorite   
time of day, not because that was the only time that   
the sun entered my office world but because of what   
it held. Late afternoon was always full of promise;   
full of something that I couldn't quantify and   
explain. It promised release to the weary, time for   
rest and relaxation before the morning began the   
cycle anew.   
  
I had found myself staying later and later at night   
to avoid that promise, however. Dreams were never my   
friends, and recently my dreams have held nothing but   
my failure to save Mulder before flashing back to a   
time when there was nothing between death and I but   
the cold steel of my gun and my mind. However, that   
latter time was far simpler, I now knew. It was a   
world without UFOs, without this half-assed belief.   
It was a world of clear black and white painted with   
the blood of thousands. It was a world before Mulder   
and Scully entered my life, a time before the X-Files   
almost completely opened me to extreme possibilities.  
  
I don't need to wonder how Scully handled her   
transition from skeptic to almost-believer because I   
am handling that same situation now. I was a   
soldier, a believer in the absolute authority of my   
nation and the omniscience of my company commander.   
But I was also a scared kid exposed to too much way   
too soon. I feel that way again.  
  
Where did the strong person that I used to be   
disappear to? Is he still here, beneath the surface   
of believer that has coated my skin? Or did I lose a   
part of myself when They took Mulder from within my   
grasp? The world is no longer black and white. It   
is filled with shades of gray.   
  
Gray. That is how I feel, but it is far from the   
vibrant darkness that pulses around Scully. My heart   
bleeds for her loss, though she has done all that she   
could to try and convince me that she is 'fine.' But   
all these years with Mulder and Scully under my   
command have given me a finer insight into the person   
that resides behind her cornflower blue eyes. I know   
she is slowly being torn apart, but I am helpless.  
  
If I could wave my hands and make Mulder return...if   
I could give myself up in his place, I gladly would.   
In a heartbeat. In a nanosecond. I would. But all   
means of contact have been ripped from me save for   
the fine tether that struggles to bend me to the   
whims of Krycek and his nanites. And again I am that   
scared kid of over thirty years ago exposed to too   
much too soon. What happened to the Walter Skinner   
of years ago? Life happened, and death, and war.   
I've seen people ripped apart by bullets. I've seen   
the brutality possible at the hands of man. Nothing   
compares to the brutality of tearing apart two people   
that have been the other's better half for well over   
seven years.   
  
If only I could weave these sunbeams into a beacon to   
summon someone or something to save him, to save me,   
to save Scully, and yes, to even save Doggett. If   
only I could weave the beams into a Batsignal, or a   
'Superhero Needed' sign. If only there was a   
superhero to save us...if only. Instead, there is a   
tired AD who has seen too much in his lifetime and a   
tired red-haired agent with haunted eyes. There is a   
man who refuses to believe what his senses tell him,   
preferring to focus on what his mind insists must be   
the truth. And there is a trio of hackers who remind   
me of the Three Musketeers sometimes. We are all   
that stands between Colonization and life. We are   
all that remains to bring Mulder home. What chance   
do we have?  
  
'Not a chance in hell,' my old drill sergeant would   
say, 'But hell is what we're living in boys. This   
ain't any frilly pageantry we're talking about. This   
ain't your backyard, boys. This is war. And this is   
the worst hell imaginable.'  
  
After thirty years, hell had returned with a   
vengeance. Only now, it was disguised under the   
wisps of cigarette smoke left behind by a man who   
would end the world. There could be no smoke without   
fire, and it was that fire that I was about to step   
into.   
  
Fire and ice. It coated my world now, just as it was   
personified for seven years in the small frame of a   
fiery-haired woman and the dark eyes of a haunted   
man. Fire and ice. Ice and fire. It was   
intermeshed in my two agents, but now that fire and   
ice was muted. Like Washington as the seasons   
changed, something was dying to be replaced with   
something new.   
  
'Give 'em hell, boys, but don't get yourself caught   
up in that hell. I don't wanna go to your homes to   
tell your mommas that their boys ain't coming home.   
Look around you boys. Look at your companions.   
They're going to be your brothers, your fathers, and   
your sons. They're your family now, boys. And you   
better do all you can to protect your family.   
They're all that stands between you and a thousand   
Kong that're itching to rip your Yankee hides apart.'   
My drill sergeant's words returned to the surface of   
my mind again and I rubbed my eyes wearily. It was   
after that speech that my company was sent out into   
the fight, and it was then that I got my first taste   
of war.   
  
I know that same scared kid still lingers behind my   
brown eyes. I have seen war and the destruction that   
it brings. I have witnessed blood pouring from   
wounds that could not be stopped by pressure, or any   
amount of prayer. I lost God somewhere in those   
blood soaked fields of Vietnam. I had thought that   
God had forsaken us. That He had turned his back on   
the soldiers that fought wars on the small world that   
He had made. I thought that He didn't care as I was   
baptized in fear by splashes of blood and tearing   
agony. Then I came home and found a country that   
had turned its back on its native soldiers. I found   
hell again, only this time it wasn't because of the   
Kong, it was because of Americans who did not care   
enough for those of us that had shed blood to protect   
our ideals.  
  
In that disillusioned state, I returned to the   
church...but now...oh now, I am becoming that same   
disillusioned kid who just came home from war. Where   
is God now? Why didn't He protect Mulder? Why won't   
He send Mulder home? I knew that God had not   
abandoned us, but it was hard to accept that such   
pain could exist.   
  
Scully, however, knows and accepts that she walks in   
hell. She's walked in hell every day since his   
abduction, and every step has ripped away another   
piece of her. Sometimes, I think the only thing   
helping her to hold on is the tiny life that she   
carries within her. God, pregnant. Scully pregnant.   
I knew that they were an item. You'd have to be   
blind, deaf, and dumb not to notice that. But I   
turned away from their relationship, privately   
condoning that they have a bit of heaven in their   
lives. It was about damn time that something went   
their way. And now she's pregnant...and Mulder's   
gone.   
  
The shadows on my desk have grown condemning. I lost   
something that I had no right to lose. I lost   
someone that should never have been able to be lost.   
  
'The worst pain there is is of losing someone right   
before your eyes. Believe me boys, sometimes there's   
nothing you can do to save 'em. You can curse fate   
till you're blue in the face. You can curse God or   
any deity that you believe in. But it sometimes just   
won't save 'em. And you've got to live with that.   
And that hurts, boys. It hurts a whole hell of a   
lot. Friends are a must here, but you've also got to   
know that sometimes you lose friends. And sometimes,   
there's nothing that you can do to save them.'  
  
'Bullshit, Sarge,' I thought bitterly, 'Bullshit.' I   
was no stranger to guilt, but this guilt was   
something that I wished that I didn't have to bear.   
I lost Mulder, but I gained belief in all that he   
stood for and in what he knew. I wish I could see   
his face when he learns that he's made a believer out   
of me. I wish I could see his face, period.   
  
'If you think I'm a bastard boys... If you think   
that I've been too damn hard on you...then wizen up   
now. Because what I've done is coddle you. I've   
tried my best to toughen you up to face something   
that no man should have to face. And damnit, you   
will face it sooner rather than later. Anything that   
I've done to you here is a thousand times less than   
what the Commies'll do to you out there. It's war   
out there. Not you playing with toy guns and fake   
swords. Not you sitting at home watching TV. No,   
it's war. This is reality. This is blood, sweat,   
and tears. This is real life boys, and it's gonna   
hurt you bad. Some of you will come home, and some   
of you won't, but I hope that I've given you   
something over these past few weeks. I hope I've   
given you the means to survive. Survive, boys, or   
die if you must and you will have made this old drill   
sergeant happy.'  
  
I survived 'Nam. I survived Quantico and survived   
case after case that passed by my desk during my   
years as a field agent. I survived the climb to my   
current position, but I don't know if I can survive   
this. I lost a friend to gain belief. I lost Mulder   
to learn his truth. But survival might be asking   
more of me than I have to offer. Skepticism has   
died, but I'm still struggling to face the 'extreme   
possibilities' that Mulder and Scully have fought to   
expose during their years together on the X-Files.   
It's not the surviving that's the hard part; it's the   
acceptance. I cannot accept that after all this   
time, we are to lose to the cigarette-smoking man's   
legacy.  
  
As Doggett cannot accept that a young boy returned to   
save his brother from his same fate, I cannot accept   
that we have lost. We are fighting a war, and   
Mulder, Scully, Doggett, and the Gunmen are my   
companions. They are my fellow soldiers in a war   
that must be won. They are my family on blood-soaked   
battlefields. I will find him. WE will find him.   
  
'...It's war out there. Not you playing with toy   
guns and fake swords. Not you sitting at home   
watching TV. No, it's war. This is reality. This   
is blood, sweat, and tears. This is real life boys,   
and its gonna hurt you bad...'  
  
Yes, it hurts, and yes, it will probably mean my   
life...but I'll be damned if I lose another member of   
my self-imposed family. They're all that stands   
between the world and Colonization, and I will never   
let them down. Never again.  
  
~*FIN*~  
  
Feedback - The new drug. Gives you the  
quickest high out there.  
  
usstrustno1@hotmail.com 


End file.
